'How well they ravish ev'ry fense,

And fill up all the foul!

Where happy minds repos'd in thy embrace,
Unveil'd before the fplendour of thy face,

And in ineffable delight,

Feast on thy love, and on thy fight

Thro' all eternity employ

Their pow'rs fublime, and equal to their joy.

11.

Fain would the humble muse aspire,
And to celestial transports tune her lyre,
But, ah! in vain her strength she tries,
Feeble and faint, fhe dreads the skies,

And finks the more, the more fhe ftrives to rife.
My foul too finks, as well as the,
Forgets its own immortal pedigree,
Forgets the fkies, its native feat,
And grov'ling low in duft and clay,
Heedlefs of aught divinely great,
It wastes the precious hours away,
In joys that fly as swift as they.
The finful flesh, a heavy load,

Drags down the bright, immortal part,
Weakens its pow'rs, and fixes all the heart
Far from its heav'n, and from its God!
Terreftrial objects ev'ry rapture move,
For them alone it learns to love,

For them with eafe neglects the distant joys above.

Delia, whom propitious Heav'n

The fofteft cure for my worft ille has giv'n;

To end in wand'ring thro' life's tedious road,
To banish horror and defpair,

Tear from my heart each wildest care,

Look down with pity on my ftate,
And help, as you compaffionate.
Thou art my only hope below:
Where'er I ftand, where'er I go,
'Tis all inchanted ground;
Temptations ev'ry where abound,

And fnares, and baits, and darkness all around.
Inciting Vice, with fatal charms.

Tempts me from Virtue's noble toils,
To her destructive arms:
With what a grace the fyren smiles!
How fair her painted face!
Eager I gaze myself away,

Long her bewitching dictates to obey,
And rush to mis'ry in the soft embrace.

Thou art my guide, and if thou lead,

Ev'n yet, perhaps, I Virtue's paths may tread, Trace without fear the bright, but toilsome way:

If thou neglect thy care, infallibly I fray.

Thus, if a poor, benighted traveller

Sees in the gloomy skies one friendly star,
He bleffes the auspicious light;

Then thro' the horrors of the night,

With cautious steps, pursues his doubtful way,
And patient waits the flow approach of day.

IV.

How ftrange, alas, my frailties be!

I find temptations ev'n in thee: Diffolv'd in blifs, and melting in thy arms,

I loose the relifh of celeftial charms;

On thee alone my wand'ring thoughts employ,

And loft in thee, forget fuperior joy.

O thou, whofe unrefifted fway

My wildeft paflions still obey!

Ufe all thy pow'r, each bafer thought control,
Raife juft defires, and regulate my foul;

Inftru&t my feeble fancy to conceive

Joys above all that earth, or thou canst give.
O couldst thou to my frozen breast inspire
One spark of thy own heav'nly fire;

That I too might th' immortal transports know,
And more than taste a paradise below!

Scarce the bright cherubs, or the blefs'd above,
A more celeftial ardour prove,

Scarce all their harps, and all their lays,
Their great Creator better praise,

Or reach in loftier notes the triumphs of his love.

V.

Whene'er I read the moving lines,

Where well exprefs'd the lofty subject hines,
I fee the joys I should pursue,

And all the fkies are open'd to my view :
Hail, happy realms! divine abode !

Hail, manfions worthy your creator, God!
And can a mortal then poffefs

A place in your bright palaces?

Who could refufe, fuch glories to obtain,
A few fhort hours of toil or pain?
The marty'rs gain'd you thro' a bloody way:
Sure I could dare as well as they;

With vig'rous zeal in Virtue's cause engage,
And ftem the torrent of a vicious age,
Inchanting Vice no more my foul shall warm;
I fee the fiend reveal'd in open light:

Heav'ns! how the hideous form offends my fight!
Amaz'd I fhrink away, and wonder she could charm.
How foon the noble warmth's decay'd!

How foon the gen'rous raptures fade!
I ceafe to read; and now they are no more,
And I grow faint and wretched, as before.

O help me ftill! let the great theme you've fung

III.

With careful hafte the frighted god

Vifits the upper air, and gains

The fertile Syracufian plains,

And Pergus' banks made bleft by thy abode.
There quickly all his anxious fear

A fofter paffion did remove,

And turn'd his ftubborn foul to love:
Illuftrious triumph of thine eyes!

In one short moment he draws near,
He fees, he loves, he bears away the prize...
IV.

O dear companions of my virgin joys!
O mother dearer than them all!

O all ye kindred deities!

And thou, great Sire, the ruler of the skies,
Hafte to my aid, and fave me when I call!

Vain regrets, and fruitlefs cries!

The earth divides to make the monarch way ::
And foon the fad Tartarian shore

With wond'ring joy receives the beauteous prey,
Its happy lord from injur'd Ceres bore.

V.

Heav'ns! what wild cares her foul,oppreft!
What rage her breast infpires!

See in Etnean furnaces

She lights avenging fires.

Unhappy ifland! defolated plain!
Fruitful and promising in vain!

Thou faw'ft her raging hand

Burn rifing crops, a grateful load,

Spread wide deftruction o'er her favourite land,

And ruin all the bleflings it beftow'd.

VI.

Cold, dull reafon, hence! begone!
A noble madnefs feize my mind,

1

Transports to vulgar breasts unknown;

Wild and roving be my fire,

My numbers loose and unconfin'd,

As when above I charm'd, and touch'd th' audacious lyre.

I would not please by artful lays;

Let others curious gardens praife,

Their nice exactnefs does but tire my fight,

And less than happy chance delight:

I love the foreft's wafte retreat,
Where all's irregularly great;
Where Nature, uncorrected, unsupply'd,
-Profufely lavishes her bounteous pride,
The foreign aids of fervile arts difdains,
And beauteous in her own diforder reigns.
VII.

Goddefs, all thy power muft own,
All muft bend before thy throne :
Pious pray'rs may move the skies,
And angry Jove is pleas'd with facrifice;
But nor pray'rs, nor piety,

Nor facrifice preserve from thee.
The fons of art, with fruitless care,
The tott'ring building may repair;
Quickly the feeble ruins fink away,

And moulder into common clay;

Themselves to yield at last, and thy ftern force obey.
Thetis, who studious her great fon to fave,

Doom'd long before to fall at Troy,

Dipt him all o'er in Styx's wave,

Yet left a place for Fate, and mourn'd the daring boy.

"VIII..

How num'rous are the worlds of dead,

That o'er thy vaft domain are spread!
New nations every moment land,
And cover all the fpacious ftrand.

The Aubborn deftinies no mercy show;